A Song Written in Dec 2002...

तुम तो साथ नहीं हो फिर भी,
ये कैसा एहसास...
जाने मुझको क्यूँ लगता है,
तुम हो, मेरे पास

सब कुछ तो बिलकुल वैसा है
जैसा कि तुम छोड़ गए थे
कितनी बातें, कितने वादे,
कितने रिश्ते जोड़ गए थे
वो सारे पल हैं अब मेरे
जीवन कि हर आस
तुम तो...

मुझे अकेला छोड़ गए तुम
रंग बिरंगे सपनों के संग
पर क्यूँ भूल गए कि अब,
तुमसे हैं मेरे जीवन के रंग
राह तुम्हारी तकती हूँ मैं
पल, घंटे, दिन, मास
तुम तो...

शाम सवेरे अब तो मैं,
बस यादों में खोई रहती हूँ
नींदें रस्ता भूल गयी हैं
जागी सी सोई रहती हूँ
तुमसे मिलने की  आशा में
आती जाती सांस
तुम तो...

They Love You More Than Me!

I recently came across these two sisters who were present at a friend’s place when I visited her. During the little interaction I had with them – one thing was clear. If given an opportunity, at least one of them would surely go to jail for the murder of the other sister in cold blood. Given the neck to neck competition they gave each other in throwing pleasantries at each other, both getting murdered was also not a far-fetched possibility. And I am not talking about 5 year old kids here. These are ladies in their mid-twenties, working in different organizations at responsible positions. Here is a glimpse of a small part of what I witnessed that day.


Scene 1:

(My friend, both the sisters, and I are sitting in the drawing room. Sister A is slicing apples for making custard. My friend is dusting the place. There is a party at her place tonight. Sister B and I are watching them at work.)

Sister A: So, how did you like my new dress? (asks my friend)

Friend: Oh, very pretty! From where did you buy it?

Sister B: Buy it? She STOLE it! I had selected it for myself and was trying something else when she pounced on this dress and got it packed. Bloody thief!

Friend: (too embarrassed to say another word)

Sister A: Don’t you ‘bloody thief’ me you #$#%*#@! You don’t even have basic fashion sense to be able to admire something as good as this.

Friend and I steal embarrassed glances at each other. I am thinking of a way to get the hell out of this room as I just don’t know how to react to this situation.

Sister B: How dare you point fingers at my fashion sense?’ (focuses on my friend) ‘You tell me…do I not have fashion sense? Are my dresses not usually prettier than hers?

Friend: Er…well, both of you have good…

Sister B: Don’t give me your diplomatic answer! Tell me is my fashion sense better than hers or not?

I really pity my friend at this moment, but can’t really help her as I hardly know these sisters, have met them for the first time, and with Sister A with a knife in her hand, and Sister B with that killer look in her eyes, interrupting in anybody’s favour does not seem like the safest option.

But Sister A comes to my friend’s rescue.

Sister A: Why are you sticking your finger in her throat to get the answer out in your favour? Why can’t you just look at yourself in the mirror and not be blind about it?

Sister B: I think we should get your eyes tested. And may be your brain as well. I will talk to mom about this, seriously.

Sister A: (mimicks) I will talk to mom about it! Why not? Do that! Has she ever favoured me that she will today? She is your last resort for everything! Go complain about me and weep like a 3 year old with your head on her lap.

(Exit Sister A.)

My friend and I are speechless while there is an uncomfortable pause.

Sister B: Yeah, blame it all on favouritism. Mom favours me only when I am right. I am sorry if I am right too often!

(Exit Sister B.)

Scene 2:

(I am looking at my friend, who looks as shocked as I feel I do.)

Me: Whoa, whoa whoa! What the hell was that? These are your friends?

Friend: Sort of. I mean, they are my neighbours. And they are okay when you talk to them individually. I just don’t get why they hate each other so much!

Me: You mean they are normal people when they are not around each other?

Friend: Oh yes, they are perfectly normal, sweet, and caring.

Me: Wow! And I thought there is nothing like bonding with a sister almost your own age!

Friend: Yes, that’s true. It’s just that these two don’t seem to get along. Sibling rivalry I guess.

And the term just stuck in my head. Sibling rivalry. Sibling rivalry. Have I myself not experienced this as a kid and a teenager? Of course!

Scene 3: (flashback to 17 years ago)

(Me (10 year old) and my brother (7.5) are playing cricket with some of our friends and younger cousins, and have a fight over dividing the team. Both of us want Player A in our team, as he is strong and can run fast. It started off as a small thing but has now become a prestige issue for us, as we are the captains for our teams and have decided to get Player A in.)

Me: We have more girls in my team, so we need him in our team for this to be a fair game!

Bro: But we are all younger guys in this team, and we need him too!

Me: Okay, let’s do a toss!

Bro: No, that’s not fair! You can’t take him, our team needs him more!

(Enter Mom.)

Bro: Mummy! See, didi is not letting me keep Player A in my team – we are all so small kids in my team!

Me: Mummy…we are an almost all girls team…Player A should be in our team!

Mom: ‘Hmmm. Arey beta, he is your younger brother. Let him keep Player A, what is the big deal?’

Bro: ‘Yay!!! We got Player A.’ (his team celebrates)

My team members are standing – heads hanging low – as if they have lost Sachin Tendulkar to the competitors.

Me: This is not fair! I am not going to play this game anymore!

And I storm out of the field, tears rolling down my eyes. I don’t understand why my mom always has to favour him – always! There can be only one reason – she loves him more than me! I lock myself in a room and cry for some time. I hate my brother.

Scene 4: (flashback of 10 years ago)

(My brother (now 14.5) has a math exam tomorrow morning. And he is not prepared as usual. And I (17) am the designated teacher to help him pass. My patience normally runs very low on these days.)

Me: So, this is how you solve such problems. Clear?

Bro: Yes.

Me: Now solve question 18 – all three parts – and show me. (I open the book I am reading while he frowns at the math book.)

5 minutes later.

Me: Done?

Bro: (silence)

Me: DONE???

Bro: How do I…which formula do I use for part 2?

Me: (exasperated sigh) Didn’t I just explain it to you?

Bro: That was a different kind of problem.

Me: Understand the concept! You will not get the same type of problem in question paper. This is what happens when you don’t study for a whole year and try to mug it up just before the exam!

Bro: Listen, I don’t need your lecture. Explain it to me if you can else I will manage.

Me: Don’t you dare throw attitude at me after messing up so much with your studies.

And it goes on. Obviously the volume control from our voices has gone off completely, and my mom comes in to solve another one of our disputes. She takes stock of the situation, and pronounces the verdict.

Mom: Well, she is right. You need to focus on the studies all through the year – this can’t happen in one night. But now that we have such short time, please don’t waste it further and concentrate. Beta, teach him once more, he will understand.

Vindicated, I begin explaining the concept to him once again, with a sense of satisfaction. Tip, tip – two drops of tear fall on his notebook.

Me: What? What are you crying for?

Bro: Nothing.

Me: What nothing? What happened?

Bro: No one loves me. Everyone loves you more because you get better marks.

Me: Huh? Who told you that?

Bro: No one needs to tell me that. I can see that. Mom just came and scolded me. She also does not love me. Papa also. They love you more than me! I hate you at times because of this.

Me: Oh, really? And what about the times when they favour you even if it’s your fault? What about the cases when I get all the scolding saying you are younger than me?

And the debate goes on.

Scene 6: Today

(I have just finished a 4 hours online chat with my brother. Both of us were sharing some important developments of our lives with each other and time just flew.)

It is unbelievable how we bond today, considering the kind of love we shared in our childhood. We still have our fights, but none of us doubts how much our parents love both of us. I guess both of us have realized this over time that parents supported one or the other not because they loved someone more, but because they were trying to inculcate this bonding between us. They wanted me to understand that I as the elder sister was supposed to be more responsible and take care of my younger brother, give in to his small demands to make him feel loved. On the other hand, they also wanted him to learn from me in various ways.

I guess most people experience sibling rivalry at some point in time in their lives. I am just glad that my brother and I ended up like this rather than like the two siblings I mentioned in the beginning. Can’t imagine how life would have been if we had turned out to be like that! What say, bro?

The Magic of Mom

It was one of those days today, when even after 6-7 hours of sleep, I got up in the morning feeling I had never slept. My mind kept telling me, 'get up - you will get late for office' - and I genuinely tried. But within a minute, my body was lying back on the bed, me telling my mind, 'just a few more minutes, and i will get up...promise! After atleast 10 of such unfulfilled promises, my mind reasoned, 'Yashi...you know you have to wake up. You can't take a leave. So what is the point of delaying the inevitable! JUST GET UP AND MOVE!'

'Okay' - I sprang out of the bed, realizing that the reason was valid. I HAD to go to office, as I am planning a vacation pretty soon, and cannot afford to take a leave. So I forced myself to get up and freshen up, and took a bath with utmost effort. By the time I reached office, my head was throbbing like crazy, and I had started feeling a bit feverish.

This is not going good at all, I told my mind.

'Don't worry, once you login, you will not even know how time flies' - it consoled me.

Well, that's true on most days - the time between the beginning and the end of a usual work day just flies. But not today.

I strained my eyes to concentrate on my emails, tried smiling back at a lot of people who smiled at me - but each movement was making me feel worse.

Finally, good sense prevailed, and I called up my boss to check if I can leave early, and he agreed.

I packed my bags, and was out in the next 15 minutes.

I reached home, had dinner that my roommate helped me cook, and lied down after gulping a Crocin.

I closed my eyes, and out of nowhere, I realized how badly I was missing my mom.

I mean, I speak to her often, think of her too, but it's been quite sometime that I missed her like this.

The only image that captured my mind was, a much younger me, falling ill like this, and my mom sitting by my bedside, knowing exactly what to do when. She knew when I was ready to eat something, and would bring something almost instantaneously. She would know when I was almost fast asleep and would ask people around us to be quiet. She would know exactly when I was pretending to be asleep to avoid eating tablets, and would coax me into it. She knew when my head was hurting, and would just stroke my forehead with her palm - and it worked like the best touch therapy ever.

Today, thinking of this image, I suddenly find tears in my eyes. It was so great to be pampered with her undivided attention. Everything else would take a back seat - my dad, my brother, her work, relatives - everything. The only most important thing was me. I even remember at times pretending to be much more ill than I actually was - just to get more of this attention. She could sit hours and hours at a stretch, watching my every move, listening to my breathing, presenting whatever I needed in the split of a second. She was like a magician.

And then I grew up, and moved to a different city - alone, on my own. It felt great to be independent, to take charge of my life. It still does. But there are times like these, that make me feel no matter how much I grow up, there still is a small kid in me who would love to be with my parents - with nothing to worry about...knowing that they are there and will take care of everything.

The Writer in Me

"You write well."

"Very well written - I think writing is in your blood!"

"Have you been writing all these years? Why did you not share earlier?"

"Beautiful thoughts - expressed very nicely"

These were some of the responses I got when I started blogging. When these comments began pouring in, my first reaction was that of relief. Immense relief. Relief because I so desperately wanted people to like what I wrote, but was so unsure they would. So yes, I was extremely relieved when I did not meet harsh criticism on my first blog.

My second reaction was that of elation. Yes!!! I was better than I had thought. I was being appreciated for doing something that I loved doing. People were actually liking what I wrote! This meant a great deal to me.

And the third reaction was to face the questions that stood staring at me. WHY did I not share my writings with anyone earlier? I have always been writing. Yes, all these years. Something or the other. Diary mostly. Then poems, stories, essays. The fact is, I have always loved writing - it has been my stress-buster. My companion when everything else in life seemed to be falling apart. Always. Then why, why have I been so reluctant to share any of these writings with anyone - save a few friends with whom I have shared my writings - but that too very selectively.

I find two answers to these questions when I introspect. One - most of my writings have been extremely personal in nature. They are expressions of my feelings during the times which were very, very tough for me as an individual. They reflect the intense emotions I had gone through during those times. Some of these are things I am still not comfortable sharing with anyone. Not yet, atleast.

The second reason is - fear of failure. I could never prepare myself to jump into the waters without thinking about drowning. What will people say/think of me? Will I be exposed - my weaknesses especially - will they be out in the open - for people to judge me? Yes. So why take the risk. Why not just stay like this, in my comfort zone, and be fine. And so I did.

Why did I start this blog then - some of you might think. Valid question. Well, there is a small twist in this story. All these years - when I was busy shying away from sharing what I wrote - somewhere deep down, I had been nurturing the hope and aspiration of becoming a writer some day. Yes, a writer. Funny? Ironical? It is. And strangely, I did not even realize this irony till only recently. An experience made me think what I really wanted to do in life. And that was to follow my passion for writing. And then I thought - if I do not have the courage to share a small piece of article with anyone, it is highly stupid to even think about becoming a writer. My aspirations and the reality were so hopelessly contradictory to each other. I had to choose between the two - my dream or the status-quo. Courage or fear. Risk or comfort zone. Finally I realized - the dream was too important for me to compromise it for the sake of some fear. I was already regretting the years I had wasted not marching towards my goal. I did not want to spend more of them. And hence, Moments of Solitude came into existance.

Before I end this note - I would like to thank each one of you - who has read this blog and encouraged me to write more. Trust me, your views/feedback mean a lot to me. Thank you, for not letting the writer in me die. And I will try my best not to let you all down. I promise.

The Cycle

It has happened again. The same cycle - a news, a gap to absorb it, some reflections, the realization, the tears, and finally the memories. The only things that remain.

In the past few years - I have gone through this cycle several times. And it still does not cease to shock me each single time. It started with 'baba' - my paternal grandfather. Followed by his wife, my 'dadi'. Then it was Monty. A week after that was Jassimran. Then an uncle. A few days ago Sayak. And now my maternal grandfather - my 'nana'. All these have been cases of sudden deaths, not followed by any severe illness. All these people were hail and hearty moments before the lightening struck. Obviously they themselves won't have known that they were so close to the end - forget those around them. Okay, some of these people were somewhat old - but they were all quite active till moments before their deaths.

Today looked like a normal day - apart from the fact that there was too much work and I was in office on a Sunday. I wanted to complete some pending stuff for a customer visit that starts tomorrow. I was working on this presentation when I received a call from my brother - to tell me about the incident. The first reaction was shock and disbelief. Then the news sunk in. Nana? NANA? How...where...when? Apparently he slipped in the verandah and got hurt in his head. And before anyone could know a thing, it was all over. By the time I disconnected the call, the tears were already in full flow. I had not even spoken to him in the last few days...just postponing it to some other day. This is going to be one of the biggest regrets of my life.

I tried hard to get a ticket and board the next flight to Delhi - so that I could see him one last time before all we have are his photographs. But guess God had decided to punish me. I missed the flight by 10 minutes. And now here I am, thinking about him, and how I am not being able to accompany him in his last few hours in this world before he mixes with the five elements his body was made of.

There is not much difference in the way this cycle unfolds. And it always leaves me with some philosophical thoughts in my mind. What is the point of this life that we lead? Who knows what's in store in the next moment? We plan our lives years in advance, when we aren't even sure if we are going to see another new day. These thoughts are disturbing. But what is even more disturbing is that they are so short-lived. I mean I go in this phase of what-is-the-point-of-life when I experience any such incident - and after a few days, things get back to usual. The same routine, the same rat-race, the same lifestyle. Once in a while I come back to these thoughts - but for a very short span of time. Some would call it the resilience of human nature - that lets people survive the biggest adversities in life. I agree. Some would call it the stupidity of human beings - how people forget what their real destiny is and run after materialistic things. I agree to this as well. But then, what are we supposed to do? I mean, agreed that everyone is meant to die someday. But till the time a person is alive, what should he or she be doing? Should one be enjoying life to the fullest as per what one feels is important - or should one focus on things beyond one's selfish interests, and do something about humanity in general? I don't know which of these perspectives is right or wrong - I am no one to judge. All I feel is, as long as people who know someone remember him or her with fondness and love, that person has had a good life.

And from that perspective, I have no doubt that my nana had a wonderful life. I am sorry that I am not with you today nana - to wish you a final goodbye. But you will always be there with me and I know you will be blessing me like always - from wherever you are. I am surely going to miss you as hell. May your soul rest in peace.

A Big Girl...

Niharika still remembers the day her 4th standard results were announced. She had passed, and would go to 5th standard now. All her family members and relatives had been so happy...and they told her she was a big girl now. Ofcourse, she thought. Girls who reach Class V are big girls. They are not kids any more...like those nursery or Class I/II girls. They are the senior most in primary school. And she was happy that she was one of those big girls now, who are considered to be mature, and are treated with respect like elders. She met her friend Shruti in the evening - in their colony's park, and they sat on a swing together. And they talked about their schools, friends, results as usual. And they marvelled, "Next year, we will go in Class VI!" They pushed the ground harder to increase the speed of the swing. "And then next to next year, in Class VII!!!" The swing's speed increased even more. "And then Class VIII!!!" Whoa! That was all. That was the extreme of their imagination. Reaching Class VIII looked like such a big goal in life. Completely overwhelmed, they could not think beyond.

Cut to 8 years later. Niharika is sitting in a room full of her Class XII batchmates and teachers. There is a group of people singing an emotional farewell song on stage. There are tears in Niharika's eyes. These friends - she does not know when will she meet them after this. Will she be able to stay in touch? Oh, how badly will she miss her school days! Why does this life have to end? The laughters, punishments, homework, fun - is it really getting over? Her wandering eyes spot Kailash, and she quickly looks away. Will she ever see him again? Kailash - her biggest crush in school, the first love of her life? She hasn't even spoken to him in over 4 years now. And she does not have the courage to even go and ask him to fill her slam book so that she gets his contact details at least. Should she? It does not matter. Because she knows she can't. She is way too shy to do this. And Pankhudi? Her best friend in school? Who knows what life has in store for their friendship. Can they live without each other? Does not look possible. Oh, it is so hard. And suddenly, out of nowhere, an image captures her mind. The image of Shruti and herself speeding up the swing, thinking 'We are big girls now!' And she smiles bitterly. Ya, right. Big girls? In Class V? How stupid were we back then - not even knowing what life is all about. Now is the time when she actually feels she has become a big girl - so much more mature than she ever was. Yes, she is really a big girl now.

Cut to 3 more years later. Niharika is again sitting in a room with some of her friends. Their graduation final year results are out. And that means, it is end of college. Another ending in life. Another time to part with people she has become close to. Another time to leave the surroundings she has become so used to. But this time this is not so difficult. She has the contact numbers of all her friends. And she knows she can stay in touch with them forever. Now is the time to do something big in life. They are graduates now, with numerous dreams in their eyes. There is so much to do...so much to achieve. It is time to make all dreams come true. She is ready to take on the world. And suddenly, she again thinks of that evening on that swing with Shruti, and laughs aloud. She can't believe she was so naive. And she also thinks about her Class XII farewell. That brings a smile today. Well, she is in touch with some of her friends from school. She has not seen or spoken to Kailash since then - but that seems such a distant memory now. She has definitely grown as an individual, learnt so much in life. She feels she is so much mature now - she knows what to do with her life. She has really become a big girl now - in the true sense.

Cut to today. It's been 5 years since her graduation. She has just come back from work, and is extremely disillusioned. She has just begun to see some realities of the corporate world. The cut-throat competition. The lows people hit to achieve something they think is success. The back-stabbing. The deceits. These things have hit her hard. Her beliefs that everything around her is fair have shattered. She has seen people changing colours. People she used to admire have turned into filth she does not want to look at. In her personal life too, she has seen multiple facets of various people. She has experienced deceit from people closest to her. She has learnt not to trust easily. And for some reason - she can't stop thinking about those innocent days she has left behind. The days when it was so easy to pour her heart out to Shruti or Pankhudi - without having to think what they would do with that information. The days where games meant pure fun - and did not hurt like the games people played with each other in her current stage of life. It seems immaterial that she is a big girl now. She just wants to go back to those days of being naive and stupid. That life seems so much simpler. And as she is thinking - she realizes one more thing. At every stage of her life, she has felt she had already seen what life had to offer, and was mature enough to handle anything that comes her way. Only to be proven wrong at a later stage. And for sure, there is another stage in life yet to come, that will make her feel how immature she was when she was getting upset over these small issues in life.

She realizes, that in reality, she is never going to be a big girl - ever. She will always have more things to learn, new experiences to encounter - that will leave her with more maturity than she already had. She is surprised that it has taken her so long to understand this small truth. She was almost going to believe once again that she has become a big girl with these newly found experiences. But no, not again. The truth is, there are many more things to come in life - and she just wants to be ready to learn from them. Never again would she think of herself as a big girl.

Goodbye Sayak

"NH4 or NH17? hmmm ... Doesn't really matter .... all roads lead to Goa !! Happy Holi folks ! Ciao on Tuesday ..."

This was Sayak's last post on Facebook. 26 Feb 2010, Friday, 7:24 am. And now - there will be no more posts from him. No more messages, no roaring laughters, no more talks of eating fish. He died in a road accident shortly after posting his last status message on FB.

Sayak was a batchmate from my PG days at IMI. Was he a really good friend of mine? Not exactly. But strangely, I now realize that he mattered enough for me to be writing this for him.

In retrospect - I can think of so many memories that we shared. A few group assignments in college. That trip to Jaipur, Ranthabhore, and Agra - during which I had a historical fight with him. Working with him in college's alumni committee. We had our differences and were quite vocal about them. And so there were several clashes between us. But today, I am glad that the last few memories that I have of Sayak are pleasant. The last one being my meeting with
him in Prerna's wedding.

Sayak - I still can't believe that we had met up just 15 days ago...and will never meet again. I still can't believe that we will never talk about how much weight you have lost or gained...or about the places that serve awesome fish. I still can't digest these sudden and swift ways of the universe - that change so many lives drastically - in a split second. But in this note, I just want to say that I am glad you could see that tiger in Ranthambore during our trip. You were right in saying that you will never be able to come back to see it. I am glad that we reconnected before you left this world forever. I am glad that the last time we met, we parted on a cheerful note.

I don't know which highway you took for going to Goa - but I really wish you had taken the other one. I am sure the first batch of PGDM-HR from IMI will miss you. May you rest in peace. Goodbye.